


What's Wrong With Your Blood?

by wordyanansi



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-05
Updated: 2015-09-20
Packaged: 2018-04-19 06:33:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4736093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wordyanansi/pseuds/wordyanansi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s been about three weeks, and Clarke’s still adjusting to the new world order. She’s still tempted to call it her life, but she’s not entirely sure that applies given that she’s now technically the undead.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A First Hunt

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by [this tumblr post](http://wordy-anansi.tumblr.com/post/128063872193/harblkun-krazykitsune-leupagus).

It’s been about three weeks, and Clarke’s still adjusting to the new world order. She’s still tempted to call it her life, but she’s not entirely sure that applies given that she’s now technically the undead. For the most part, it seems to involve a lot of sleeping, candlelight, and black clothing. Pretentious cliches abound. And she thinks she’s handling it pretty well considering that, until three weeks ago, she hadn’t exactly believed that vampires were a real thing. And then, this girl in a late night coffee shop had smiled with all of her teeth, and Clarke had felt like prey. Twenty minutes later, Clarke had dropped her satchel full of text books on the ground as they made out against the bricks in an alleyway… and then she’d kissed down her neck and latched her teeth onto her neck. Clarke had sighed, aroused, and the grimaced in pain… and the next thing she knew, she was the undead and hanging out on the top floor of a boarded up warehouse. Cliche after cliche. So far, her sire, Lexa, had been bringing her blood bags and trying to hit on her. But after her most recent rejection (because getting turned into a vampire is so not a turn on), Lexa had forced her out into the street to hunt for food and follow her instincts. 

So far, Clarke’s instincts had been to head for the library and read something other than the medical text books she’d been lugging around when she’d turned. And seriously, if she had known the undead life was waiting for her, she probably wouldn’t have spent so freaking long studying medicine. It was probably the thing she was most bitter about in this whole being a vampire gig. She’d worked damn hard to get so far, and she’d had one freaking semester left. She was still heading toward the library when she smelled him. She’d walked past a surprising amount of people given it was eleven at night, but none of them had pulled her in, and she felt her gums ache as her teeth almost vibrated. He was tall, and his dark hair curled in a mess on his head, his olive skin hinted at in the street lights. And his scent. Her incisors lengthened and she felt the need to bite him grow. She smiled as he cut into a side street without lights.  
“Hey,” she called out, and he paused, looking over his shoulder, probably assessing the threat of the pixie sized blonde in front of him. If only he knew, she thought, as he smiled at turned properly.  
“It’s not exactly safe for pretty young women at night in dark streets,” he pointed out, humour lacing his tone. Clarke laughed.  
“Thanks for the heads up,” she replied, moving towards him.  
“Did you want something?” he asked, and with her enhanced sight, she could see his pupils dilate with attraction as she approached.  
“Yes,” she replied, her voice husky, desire lacing her tone, hunger pulling at her in a way she hadn’t felt before.  
“Yeah?” he questioned breathily, letting her back him up against a building. She looked up at him, enjoying the apprehension and desire he communicated, and then her eyes fell to his neck, and she moved with her new speed, her mouth latching on to his neck, taking that first mouthful of his--  
“Oh my god,” Clarke said, pulling a face as she drew back to look at him. “What the hell is that?”  
“You attempt to suck my blood and I’ve got to answer to you?” he bit back at her. Clarke let the blood sit on her tongue for a moment.  
“Anaemia. You’ve got an iron deficiency?” she demanded. He shifted uncomfortably.  
“Maybe,” he hedged. “What’s it to you?” Clarke shook her head.  
“Do you know how low your iron levels are? And your pallor is low,” Clarke said, narrowing her eyes. He flinched as she reached up and pulled down the lower lid of his eyes. “Pale. You’re not sleeping enough, your iron has bottomed out. You need to go see a doctor,” she informed him. He looked at her like she was crazy.  
“A vampire literally just tried to suck my blood and now they are giving me medical advice?” he asked, incredulous. “This is the weirdest thing that has ever happened to me. You probably only want me to take some iron supplements so I taste better.” Clarke scoffed.  
“I hate to break it to you, handsome, but I think you’re past iron supplements. You need an iron transfusion. There’s a free clinic on Elizabeth St that do them. Tell them Dr Griffin sent you,” she replied.  
“You’re actually a vampire doctor? Dr Griffin the vampire. Is this a sitcom?” he asked, looking around as if he could find hidden cameras. She huffed, and folded her arms.  
“Dr Griffin is my mother. Though I would have been Dr Griffin if some bitch hadn’t decided she wanted a playmate without my permission,” Clarke said bitterly. He considered her for a moment, before extending his hand.  
“Bellamy Blake,” he introduced himself. “How long have you been a vampire?” Clarke smirked slightly as she gripped his hand.  
“Clarke Griffin,” she replied. “Three weeks.” Bellamy snorted.  
“Three weeks? That’s, uh… recent. I kind of expected you to be like two hundred years or something,” he said, only half joking. Clarke rolled her eyes.  
“Yes well, the lair does hit the normal cliches. Go to the clinic. Take care of yourself. I’ve still got to find dinner before sunrise,” she offered, backing away slightly.  
“I’ll, uh, I’ll see you around then?” Bellamy said, hesitant. She shrugged, promising herself that she would see him again.  
“Good night, Bellamy Blake,” Clarke said, turning away from him.  
“And if you’re looking for someone suitably deserving for blood donation, I hear there is a drug dealer trying to set up shop the gym on Carrington Ave,” he called after her. She turned to look at him, eyebrows raised.  
“Just heard about it?” she questioned, amused. Bellamy shrugged.  
“He accosted my sister. I mean, she kicked his ass. But I’d like him not exist if that’s a thing that could be arranged,” he offered. She laughed.  
“I think that can be probably arranged,” Clarke told him, and then she faded back into the shadows, and headed towards Carrington Ave, smiling to herself.


	2. A Second Encounter

Bellamy’s not entirely sure he hasn’t had a sleep-deprivation induced hallucination until he gets home and sees the marks on his neck. He’s still not convinced until the next day when Octavia steals his coffee and announces that the drug dealing creeper is dead. Then he has another thought.   
“Do you think that I could have snapped and killed him? And, like, developed this weird alternate reality where I didn’t?” Bellamy asks, he’s trying really hard not to think about Clarke, and he definitely not going to tell Octavia about his little encounter. Octavia looks at him like he’s an idiot.   
“Are you sleeping enough?” she asks. “Because that sounds like crazy talk to me. Also it was an animal attack or something.” Bellamy rolls his eyes, but his stomach clenches. O punches his arm. “You aren’t sleeping enough,” she accuses him with conviction. He rubs his arm.   
“Ow, O, Jesus. And worry about yourself. I’m fine,” he protests. She huffs something insulting under her breath, but gracefully lets him change the subject to her weekend plans.

But the moment he realises that it isn’t all a strange hallucination, is about a week later when she appears as if by magic as he exits the library at almost midnight. She’s smiling like a predator and leaning up against a lamp post like a badass out of a movie, all dressed in black. He grins at her.   
“I see what you mean now about the cliches,” he tells her. She laughs, and he thinks that it’s probably not how a vampire is meant to sound. He should probably be scared, but he’s not. He’s just kind of happy to see her. For one, he knows for certain that he’s not insane now. And last time she called him handsome, and he’d be lying if he hadn’t been feeling smug about that. He stops in front of her, and she looks him up and down, and then sniffs. Her eyes narrow at him and he he thinks about taking a step back.  
“You haven’t been to the clinic, have you?” she accuses him. “And you’re still not sleeping enough.” He laughs, and tries not to let it get hysterical, because this is the weirdest thing he’s ever encountered.   
“I’ve been a little busy. Working two jobs, studying,” Bellamy replies, letting his voice trail off meaningfully, but Clarke’s scowl just deepens.   
“Anaemia is a serious condition, Bellamy. Your entire immune system is compromised. If you took the time to do this you’d be way less likely to get sick, be able to pay more attention, and, bonus, have energy to do the two jobs and study. It could also be a symptom of a larger problem,” Clarke lectures him, fierce. He forgets that she is a vampire, that she’s not just an angry med student he can take out for coffee. He’s smiling at her, and she grabs his arm and yanks him along with her.   
“Uh, where are we going?” he asks, slightly nervous. Because she’s not just an angry med student and she literally killed a guy last week.   
“To the clinic, obviously,” Clarke informs him brusquely. He’s pretty sure his arm is going to bruise.   
“I was kind of hoping to go home. To bed. To sleep. Given I’m so sleep deprived,” he offers in his defense.   
“I got rid of that disgusting drug dealer for you and it’s time for you to keep up your end of the bargain,” Clarke says, still dragging him slightly. He realises he should feel guilty about his death, but really, he’s not. He wonders if that makes him a bad person.  
“I’m pretty sure the clinic isn’t even open at midnight,” Bellamy offers, but he’s not really protesting anymore, in fact, he jogs a couple of steps to fall in line with her. She huffs again, and tosses her head, blonde hair shimmering down her back.   
“We’re breaking in, obviously,” Clarke says. Then she looks at him, as if expecting judgment, but there is defiance in her eyes. He grins at her.   
“You’re going to break into a free clinic to give me an iron transfusion?” he asks, but he’s smiling. “This is not the evil vampire behaviour I was expecting, if I’m being honest.” Clarke snorts, and he’s starting to think that she’d been a very serious person for the most part when she was alive.  
“My morality has become a little left of centre since the whole undead thing,” she admits. “But I don’t think this one is too out there. I mean, I get all impulsive and grumpy when starved, so it benefits everyone to keep me fed. It also benefits everyone if punish the bad dudes. It’s kind of working for me. You know, karmic balance and all that.” Bellamy think about that as he walks along beside her. Her grip has loosened on his arm, and it’s more like they are walking arm in arm. 

They walk along in silence, and while it’s not uncomfortable like it could be (has he always breathed this loud, he wonders, or is it her lack of breath that makes his louder?), he finds that he wants to talk to her, wants to know things about her life… or undeadness… or whatever it is.  
“So, I get you’re a vampire, and technically dead, but was there a funeral or something? What about your friends and family?” Bellamy asks her. She looks at him sharply, and he wonders if he’s made a mistake, but her expression softens.   
“They pretty much think I’m dead. I mean, they’re a bunch of scientists and med students and doctors. And I’m a vampire. I didn’t even believe in vampires until I became one. I’m pretty sure my mother would slice me open for science faster than I could say ‘I vant to suck your blood’,” she intones in a surprisingly spot on Romanian accent that shocks a laugh out of him. She’s smiling, but Bellamy can see the sadness in her eyes too. He’s pretty sure she doesn’t want sympathy, and he’s not sure how to give it really either.  
“I didn’t believe in vampires until last week,” Bellamy agrees. “I haven’t told anyone. Pretty sure they’d think I was crazy.” Clarke nods.  
“Yeah, pretty much. I miss my friends, but I’m not sure how they’d take the new me, you know?” Clarke tells him. “I mean, they would definitely want to do shit for science. Not in a mean way or anything. Just like ‘oh can we take a blood sample to try and identify why you need to drink blood?’ or ‘how about a skin scraping to look at the way your cells react to sunlight’. And I admit I’m kind of curious too. But it’s not like I actively want to be a science experiment either.” Bellamy think about this for a moment.   
“You’re not worried about your control around them? That’s the movie trope, generally. The protagonist gets all angsty about their blood lust around their loved ones and stalks off into the night,” he says. Clarke shrugs.   
“If I’m not hungry I’m fine. It’s not like every neck in the world makes me want to bite it or anything. And since you, I’ve stuck to people I can tell are pretty much human trash. Like this dude earlier who was mugging this girl and I didn’t kill him or anything, but he’s definitely going to need a blood transfusion or a powerade and a nap or something,” she explains, and he frowns.  
“So why did you attack me? I was just innocently walking home,” Bellamy asks, curious. Is there a scent to bad guys? he wonders, do I smell like a bad guy? Clarke swallows nervously, and then smiles, embarrassed.  
“You smelled really good,” she admits, and then she lets go of his arm suddenly. He barely has time to register that they’ve arrived, and she’s gone from his sight like a flash. He waits awkwardly, assuming that she hasn’t abandoned him just because she was embarrassed, and he’s rewarded by her opening the front door to admit him. He raises his eyebrows at her.  
“So were you good at breaking and entering before you became a vampire, or is it like the super speed?” Bellamy teases her, and she grins wickedly, her incisors slightly longer than they ought to be.   
“Wouldn’t you like to know,” she says, and Bellamy wonders if this counts as flirting with intent. Intent to what, he’s not entirely sure, but the glint in her eye doesn’t feel innocuous, it feels…  
“What are you waiting for? Come on, I haven’t got all night. Lexa is going to flip her shit if I’m not back by four, and it takes two and a half hours to do a transfusion. So move your ass,” Clarke instructs, breaking into his thoughts. He moves and sits in the seat she indicated, watching as she moves gracefully around collecting the necessary supplies. The glint is gone, and she’s all business as she inserts the cannula into his hand.  
“Who’s Lexa?” he asks, more for something to say than anything else. Clarke glances at him, and for a moment he thinks she’s going to ask if he’s jealous.   
“My sire,” Clarke says shortly, in a tone that doesn’t welcome further conversation. He watches as she hangs the bag and gives the valve a couple of flicks. “Thought I was getting laid, instead I was getting made… into a vampire.”   
“That was terrible,” Bellamy informs her after a moment of disbelief. Clarke screws up her nose.  
“Yeah, I need to work on that one,” she agrees. “Are you going to be right here while I go grab a blood bag or two? Figure I might as well take advantage while I’m here and stock up.” Bellamy nods, and she’s gone again quickly. 

He takes a moment to review what is happening, and he’s not sure how this could be real life. Not only is he on his second non-lethal encounter with a vampire, he’s sitting in a closed clinic having an iron transfusion because she was worried about him having anaemia. And now she’s getting snacks. He really hopes that this isn’t all part of her end game to eat him when he tastes better. Especially because… he thinks he’s actually developing a crush on her. She’s just so… blunt feels like the wrong word, and honest doesn’t feel like it should belong to a vampire. He’s actually kind of bummed he only got to meet her after she was turned into the bloodsucking undead, because he thinks he’d really like to ask her out for coffee. And aside from how dating a vampire sounds like a suicide plan, he’s really not sure if she would even drink coffee anymore. 

Clarke flops into the share next to him with a small cooler she’s found, that he assumes is now full of blood bags.   
“How are you feeling?” she asks. He shrugs. His hand his a little cold, but it doesn’t feel worth mentioning.   
“Confused mainly,” he admits. “Are you planning on eating me?” Clarke looks at him horrified.  
“God no, why would I be planning on eating you? I’m fixing you,” she exclaims.   
“Don’t make out like you never thought about it. You literally bit my neck when we met,” Bellamy replies, deadpan. Clarke rolls her eyes.  
“It was my first hunt. You smelled good. And then you tasted awful. But more importantly you gave me the idea to use my bloodsucking for the good of mankind. So I’m doing that now. No matter how good you smell,” she informs him, making it sound like she’s insulting him. He’s not really sure how all the positive phrases could sound like an insult, but she managed it.   
“I’m not saying I’ve thought a lot about vampires or anything. More of a werewolf guy myself. But you really are not what I expected from a vampire,” Bellamy says instead of asking more about how good he smelled to her. Normally, he’d take it as a good sign, but from a vampire it was probably more of a warning sign. Clarke shrugged.   
“Lexa and the others are more the archetype, I guess. I mean, they kind of just take what they want and are manipulative and vain,” she offered. “But they’re my clan. And they aren’t all bad. They’re just… vampires. But tell me about you,” she says, changing the subject.   
“I’m not terribly interesting,” Bellamy tried, but Clarke rolled her eyes.   
“Yeah, I’m truly fascinating. But seriously, I’d like a little normal right now,” she replies. He thinks for a moment.  
“I have a sister. I work at a coffee shop in the morning and I do security for a shopping centre at night. I study history, mainly the Roman Empire and the sociopolitical implications thereof,” he says.   
“No wonder you are over tired,” Clarke comments. For a moment, he thinks she’s going to say something else, but she decides not to.   
“It’s hypocritical, I suppose, but I’ve spent so long focussing on O being okay, I kind of forget to look after myself,” he adds. Clarke raises one eyebrow in question. He shrugs. “We had a not so great mother, and I’m five years older. She did her best but she wasn’t really cut out for motherhood. She died when I was nineteen and I’d already been looking after O so I just kept doing it. If she had anaemia, I’d have parked her ass in her days ago.” Clarke hums in agreement.  
“I know what you mean,” she replies.   
“Do you have siblings?” he asks. Clarke shakes her head.  
“Not by blood. But I’m kind of the mother of my friend group. Not that mine was any kind of stellar role model or anything. I mean, my mother was distant, and Rae’s was alcoholic, Jas was in foster care and Monty’s parents were working like four jobs or something crazy to look after him and his brothers. We are our own family, you know?” she tells him, smile resting on her face. He notices she didn’t use past tense, and he aches for her.   
“Yeah. I kind of adopted a bunch of guys O’s age. All single parents working multiple jobs, and I kind of became the babysitting service. Which was good, because it gave me enough cash to be there for O when she needed me, and then there was this built in support network when she was old enough to be left alone, so I didn’t have to worry so much,” Bellamy tells her.   
“But you still did,” Clarke replies, and it’s with such certainty and affection he can’t imagine her not knowing these people all of a sudden. He knows that Miller, especially, would love her. Fox would be so taken with her hair. Murphy would be an asshole to her, but she’d be one back, and he’d respect her. And O would think she was bad ass…   
“Yeah, always,” he admits. Clarke smirks.  
“Even though she beat up a drug dealer last week,” Clarke adds. Bellamy winces, and she laughs. “She did a good job,” Clarke tells him. Bellamy sighs.   
“It’s great that she’s all martial arts girl and all, but she’s still my little sister, you know? She’s eighteen, I don’t want to think about her beating dudes up. I mean, I’m proud of her. But also, could she not be in situations where the solution is to beat guys up?” Bellamy asks. Clarke laughs.  
“My friend Rae would think you’re hysterical,” she grins. “And think that your sister was on point.” Bellamy grins back, trying not to think about how beautiful she was, definitely not wondering how much of it was the fact she was all vampiric and graceful.   
“Tell me about her,” Bellamy says, and she does. She talks about all her friends in the end. She tells him how she met each of them. About how she and Raven had dated the same guy, about Jasper’s complete lack of game, about Monty’s shy brilliance. She talked about Wells, too, a friend that had almost been her brother and died in a car accident a few years ago. She talked until the drip ran dry and the alarm sounded signalling the transfusion was complete. Bellamy could have listened to her talk for longer, but the alarm jolted her out of the soft bubble of reminiscing and back into the harsh reality. 

She was perfunctory as she removed the cannula, and lectured him about getting a blood test in a couple of weeks to make sure it took and getting plenty of vitamin D. And she dismissed him as if he were just a patient, and she hadn’t spent the last two hours making him laugh until he cried. He wandered through the deserted streets as it approached 3 am and wondered if he should miss his morning coffee shift to catch up on sleep, if he could afford it. He was lost in his thoughts as her turned down the street on which he lived, and he didn’t notice the approach until her hand was on his arm and he was jumping with fright. He turned to see Clarke wincing.   
“Sorry,” she offered. “I just. I liked talking to you tonight. And I know you’re busy with the jobs and studying and the father figuring…” Bellamy grinned at her, nervous, beautiful vampire that she was. And for all that, just a girl in need of a friend.   
“Yeah. Me too. I’m sure you won’t be able to resist lecturing me on my health for long,” he said dryly. She rolled her eyes dramatically.  
“Get some sleep, asshole,” she instructed. “Before I regret helping you.”   
“Kidnapping me,” Bellamy corrected, and she laughed.  
“Fine, kidnapping you. But I gave you back,” Clarke tells him. “I’ll always give you back. And in better condition than I found you,” she says pointedly.   
“Night Clarke,” Bellamy tells her, and then he watches as she moves almost faster than his eyes can track back into the shadows.

It’s been a very strange night, he thinks, as he climbs the stairs to his apartment. But he’s pretty sure he’d like more of them.


	3. Prelude to a Third Degree

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke's past comes back to haunt her.

Clarke’s getting really sick of the pretentious vampire bullshit. Lexa’s going around acting like she owns her because she turned her into a vampire. Anya hasn’t stopped glaring at her in the two months she’s been stuck like this, and it’s not like she wants to be friends with anyone, but she’s kind of sick of feeling alone. She misses Raven and Monty and Jasper. Misses her classes. And… she misses Bellamy. Which is weird and frustrating and annoying. She’s spending more and more time wandering the streets looking for assholes to snack on, cutting it finer and finer before sunrise. What Clarke really needs to do is find somewhere else to live, but she’s not sure how to go about that. She remembers watching Buffy and Angel had this black-out apartment and Spike found a crypt somewhere. But she thinks it takes contacts to get a sweet apartment, and it probably takes at least a hundred years to be comfy in a crypt.

 

And she misses Bellamy Blake. She’d felt awkward stalking him any sooner than a week, and then he just wasn’t in the places he normally went. And he was kind of the only good thing that had happened to her in the last four weeks. She’s wandering down the street outside the library, absently hoping to smell him (it sounds so much creepier than it probably should), and she’s not paying a terrible amount of attention to her surroundings.

“Clarke!” She freezes in place at the familiar voice calling her name. Monty. She could feel him standing there, staring at her back, and she knows she should have kept walking, should have ignored it, and he’d think it was a flash of memory and poor lighting. But she stopped.

“Clarke? Is that… is that you?” Monty asks, moving closer. And she turns, smiling softly.

“Hi Monty,” Clarke says quietly. He’s staring at her like she’s a ghost, and god, to him she is. And that would probably be better than what she is.

“You’re… where have you been? What…?” he asks, stepping forward. Clarke chews the inside of her cheek a little and doesn’t know what to say, so she shrugs a little helplessly.

“You died,” Monty whispers. “You died… what are you… how are you…?” Clarke forced out a sigh.

“I died,” Clarke agrees. Monty stares at her. “It was an accident.” She wishes there was something else she could say or do to make sense of it. She meant what she’d said to Bellamy, about his curiosity getting the best of him, but right now… right now she just wanted to hug him and tell him it was going to be alright. Though she had no idea how it was ever going to be.

“You’re not dead?” Monty asked. Clarke doesn’t know how to say the next part. She’s not even entirely sure what to say. She’s kind of terrified. And then she smells Bellamy, and she looks around and sees him, and she knows that he gets it instantly.

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Monty asks, eyes welling up, stepping forward again. “It’s been four weeks!”

“Bellamy Blake,” Bellamy says, stepping in beside her, offering his hand to Monty, who shakes it weakly.

“I’m really confused,” Monty says. Clarke grasps Bellamy’s hand tightly. “Who are you?” Clarke looks over at Bellamy apologetically.

“He’s my boyfriend. It’s all been a bit… intense. He, uh… he found me and nursed me back to health and… and…,” Clarke stammers, before looking up Bellamy desperately. He looks like he’s about to burst out laughing, but he seems to recover with a cough and nods seriously, before looking at Monty.

“Yeah, she was unconscious, and had head wound. Memory loss. Just, you know, generally weak. And then she didn’t want to leave and I just couldn’t make her,” Bellamy offers, and Clarke nods eagerly.

“I didn’t even know I’d been declared dead,” Clarke adds. “It’s, I’ve been sort of wondering how to, you know, be in touch again.” Monty looks between the two of them. Clarke’s almost sure he’s not buying it at all.

“I’ve quit med school and decided to become an artist,” Clarke adds. “I’m a bit… nervous about how everyone’s going to react.” Monty smiles.

“Clarke! How could you think we wouldn’t be supportive? That’s awesome!” Monty tells her, stepping forward to give her a hug. “You’re mother is going to flip.” Clarke steps back from him smiling.

“Part of the fear,” she admits. And then she smiles at Bellamy. “He told me I shouldn’t be such a wimp.” Bellamy’s looking at her fondly, and she takes a moment to forget she’s a vampire, forget that she can’t actually go home with him, curl up beside him… can’t have anything she’s saying.

“So you’ll come back then?” Monty asks. Clarke winces, and Bellamy slings an arm around her shoulder, pulling her in against his side.

“Hey, we should do coffee tomorrow night,” Bellamy says. “Yeah, you bring Jasper and Raven - I’ve heard so much about them - and we’ll meet up at 8pm at The Drop Ship?” Clarke coughed, awkwardly.

“Not there,” she whispered, tilting her head up towards him, and he covered it by kissing her cheek.

“Actually,” Bellamy continues. “How about Daily Grind? I haven’t been there in ages and they have a caramel slice I dream about occasionally.” Monty looks between them, slightly suspicious.

“Sure,” Monty says slowly. “But you know, Raven’s going to have a field day with this. Like, actual, literal mocking you field day. And she’s not going to go easy on lover boy either.”

“Yeah well, maybe tell her it’s all my fault a few times,” Clarke asks. Monty laughs.

“Uh huh, okay, see you tomorrow night,” Monty grins. “But, you know, it’s really, really good to see you, Clarke.” Clarke smiles at him.

“Yeah, Mont, it’s great to see you too,” Clarke says.

 

They stand together, watching Monty leave.

“So that was interesting,” Bellamy comments idly. Then he laughs: “I’m a hero and your boyfriend.” Clarke shoves him, and starts laughing too.

“I’m sorry,” she gasps. “I’m sorry, I panicked. Oh my god, Raven’s going to kill you!” Bellamy shook his head.

“Okay, yeah, you are not letting someone kill me. Or at least not permanently,” Bellamy tells her. Clarke screws up her nose.

“You so don’t want to join the undead. I don’t want to be the undead. I need to get away from the undead,” Clarke tells him. Bellamy looks at her for a moment.

“Why don’t you come stay with me? Octavia moved out so I have a spare room and I work night shifts so I have block out curtains. As long as you, you know, promise not to kill me in my sleep,” Bellamy offers with a shrug. Clarke stares at him for a minute.

“You want to move in with a vampire?” Clarke asks. “Are you actually suicidal? Or just insane?” Bellamy rolls his eyes.

“Look, it was just a thought. Then your friends could visit you. You could actually do the art thing. We’ll make sure no sunlight can enter your bedroom at all, and you’ll be able to nag me about eating and sleeping on the regular. But hey, it’s your call,” Bellamy explains. Clarke can’t think of both a stupider idea or anything she wanted more.

“It’s going to be really inconvenient and my friends are going to be really annoying and your friends are going to think you’re fucking insane and you can’t tell anyone I’m a vampire,” Clarke tells him. “Because I have no idea how to even vaguely begin to deal with that.” Bellamy nods.

“I keep shitty hours, and I’m relatively unsocial,” Bellamy warns her. “And my place kind of functions as a drop in house sometimes. We can say you work nights… or something.” Clarke looks at him and thinks she could actually have a life. Well, not a life, but a… yeah. She smiles.

“I’m really glad I met you, Bellamy Blake,” Clarke tells him. He grins, and she melts a little, like she’s still human.

“Back at you, Clarke Griffin,” Bellamy tells her and offers his arm. She links her arm through his happily.

  
And that’s the dangerous thing about Bellamy Blake, she thinks to herself as she follows him towards his apartment. He makes her feel human. And she’s really, really not.


End file.
